A Flirtation Interpretation
by ShadowPalace
Summary: Ever wondered how Percy might have learned how to flirt in between BoTL and TLO? Well, this is the story of when Paul taught Percy a thing or two about how to flirt with girls.


**A/N: I just thought I would say a few quick things about this one-shot. **

**I got the idea for this one-shot after I was talking to some people about how in the 4****th**** book Percy couldn't flirt (let alone talk to girls, really) for his life, and suddenly in the 5****th**** book there he is flirting away with Annabeth. Some people thought that it was possible that Paul taught Percy how to flirt after he married his mother. And here we are. **

**You ask my personal opinion? I think it's a combination of demographics and trying to make the ending more expected. However, I'm still writing this. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians nor do I own anything or place mentioned in this. **

**Please enjoy! **

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You know what sucks? Math homework. How in Hades is having the knowledge of what the radical of 225a2b3 is, going to do for me in about eight years? Only someone like _Annabeth_ would care. And don't even get me started on factoring and inequalities.

You know what else I hate? When my mom isn't here. It's not that I dislike Paul or anything like that; it's just that… neither him nor I can cook. Seriously, if it can't be micro waved, don't look at me for help preparing food. And sure, Paul _tries_ harder then I do, but he doesn't have much more success.

"Percy," Paul yelled, from the living room- I think, "Are you hungry?"

I contemplated my answer. Sure, I could grab a bite. It would not only put an end to my hunger, but it will also be a great source of procrastination. The only downside is he might choose to cook something, in which case I'm screwed. I will _not _eat chicken that tastes like rubber again.

You know what? I'll risk it; a reason to temporarily ditch my math homework overrules practically anything, "Yeah." I replied, getting up from my desk and leaving my stuffy room.

"I'm up for anything. Would you like to go out, or would to stay in?" he asked, once he noticed me enter the room.

He had his feet up on the table and was reading the _New York Times_. I could tell that he was reading about Swine Flu closings by the way he kept shaking his head.

He always did that whenever he was reading about the Swine Flu. As a teacher, he was completely against the whole 'close down for the flu' situation. And as more schools closed, the more upset he seems to get about it. Personally, I'd love to get off for Swine Flu. I mean, what teenager wouldn't want to get out from school for practically no reason? Hold up, I _do_ know someone, _Annabeth_.

"Can we go out? I think I need a distraction from my math homework." I admitted, flipping through the pile of magazines on the coffee table.

"Mrs. Miller pilling work on you?" he asked, fishing through his pockets. He was probably looking for his wallet. He didn't seem to remember that he left it on the buffet table after he bought Rachel and I _Pink Berry _after school.

"Yeah," I said, handing Paul his wallet from the buffet table, "Plus math's always hard."

"That's true," he said, opening the door, "Most kids have the most trouble with math." He wrinkled his face in distaste. It's a weird thing about teachers, they always seem to have something against the other subjects assigning work, maybe it's because they _think _that their subject is best, "You're lucky, Percy. You don't have to worry about English." He loves to think that I'm great at English. I don't know if it's because he ignores my bad grades (which are most of my English grades) or it's because he has faith in me succeeding because he's _here_. Either way, it's still a lie. I'm just as bad in English as in any subject that _doesn't _involve Ancient Greece or mythology (well, _they _call it mythology).

"So, where'd you like to go?" Paul asked. I pushed the 'DOWN' button on the elevator, and began to hear the cords pulling the metal contraption up to our floor. Elevators are like torture for me, having ADHD and all. The sad result is me feeling extremely claustrophobic. This, is just _one_ of the many reasons why I _hate _living on the 6th floor.

"I don't know." I replied, honestly. I'm always indecisive about what I want to eat. I always manage to know what I _don't_ want, not what I _do_ want. Trust me, I get a hard time from both Paul and my mom for this.

"Okay," Paul said, unsurely, "Fine. Let's just go over to the diner. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah." we stepped out of the apartment into the cool spring air. This spring in particular has been immensely cool and excessively rainy (Which I don't really mind, considering I can't get wet. But it just adds a whole dark 'aura' to the city).

We walked over a couple of blocks and finally reached the restaurant I've been going to since I can remember. It always reminded me of my childhood, no matter how bad my childhood was.

A waitress wearing large black heels led us to our table, and handed us each a menu. Paul immediately put on his black-rimmed glasses and began scanning the page. I still don't get how he _hasn't _memorized the menu yet.

"What are you thinking of having?" he asked, "I'm thinking of having a turkey club." He closed the menu and placed it down on the table, and then _finally _noticed that I hadn't even touched mine.

"I'm having pancakes." I replied, taking a sip of the water that was just placed in front of me.

"Pancakes?" He asked, with disbelief.

"Yeah, pancakes. You know that you can have them for dinner here, right?" I asked, playing with the salt, pepper, and sugar shakers. Stupid ADHD, it's always preventing me from sitting still.

"Now I do." He said, chuckling.

The waitress soon came over and took our orders. Like always, she didn't seem surprised at all by my 'backwards' order.

Once she walked away, Paul started up the conversation again, "Percy, I need to talk to you about something."

"Uh huh." I said, ripping my napkin into two.

"As you're getting older, things are going to begin to change." Paul said, looking down. Oh no, not _this_ talk again.

"Paul?" I said, interrupting the begin of his lecture, "I've had the 'birds and the bees' talk with Mom already…" Actually, a few times, but let's _not_ get into that.

"Oh," Paul said, "it's not about that unless you want-"

"No!" I said. That conversation was awkward enough the first few times and that was when it was with my mom, who actually gave birth to me. I really _don't _need it from my step dad.

I think the reason why she gave it to me so many times was because _she _made the mistake with my dad. And that's how I'm here, today, trying to save the world from an evil dictator (who I could also call 'grandpa').

"Percy, as not only your step father but your teacher as well, I feel that I should help you out with something that you are clearly having some difficulties with." he said.

"Like what?" I asked, wincing in anticipation.

"Percy, I'd like to help you with your flirting." he began, "I've noticed that you haven't been talking the same way with girls as the rest of your piers, and I was wondering if I could be of help and teach you how to?" Oh boy, this is going to be really, really awkward.

"I- uh. Well you see-" I said, trying to find a way out of this torture. I know that I'm not the best in the flirting department or anything even close to that, but this? This is just horrible.

"I talked about it with your mom, and she agrees." he said, sticking a straw into his glass of water, "she says it will be useful for when you're with your 'friend' Annabeth."

I don't know what my faced looked like, but it _had _to have looked completely shocked. My mom was behind this madness and nonsense? You've got to be kidding!

I felt my body tense up, and my eyes begin to dry up from the lack of blinking. _Annabeth_? I don't even _like _Annabeth. Besides, even if I did, she wouldn't like _me,_ anyway. She's still in love with _Luke_, the traitor.

"_Mom_? Mom put you up to this?" I asked, still remaining frozen.

"She suggested it, yes. She thought it would be best if I did it because I'm not only a male but your new father," he said, "But that is besides the point. No matter who suggested it, who teaches you, or who you plan to use it towards, you still should learn."

"You really don't need to…" I said; trying my best to prevent what I knew was to come.

"Yes, I do." he said, "Percy, when you're trying to flirt with a girl, you have to try to make her feel important, while still retaining a sense of wit and dominance."

"Okay…"

"You have to be creative with your wording," he concluded, "you like basketball, right?" Now that's an odd question, even in _this_ crazy conversation.

"Yeah… I was on the team in the winter, remember?" I said, remembering all the fun times I had on the team (and how most of us looked terrible in the team photo, Rachel still mocks me for that).

"Right. Well, flirting is like passing a basketball. But instead of passing the basketball back in forth, you do that with words." Now that, is not only the weirdest metaphor I've ever heard, but also a pretty bad one at that. And what's even sadder is that it's coming from an English teacher.

"Uh huh." was all I was able to manage to get out.

The waitress brought our food over, Paul's sandwich and my pancakes.

I began eating my pancakes, shoving them into my mouth. I wanted to get out of here as _soon_ as possible. Even if that meant looking like a pig to the rest of the restaurant, I really don't care.

Sadly, Paul wasn't quite done with his 'lessons', "When you are flirting with girls, you have to do things with my hands. You should put your arm around her shoulder if you are sitting next to one another. If you're standing, you should make strong gestures and touch her arm to show her that you are interested in her and are having fun."

He then took a large bite of his sandwich. "Do you get what I'm saying?"

"I think." I replied, pouring some more syrup onto my pancakes.

"Do you want to try it on me?" he suggested.

"Not particularly." I admitted, feeling my cheeks get hot. I really didn't want to practice _flirting_ at all, let alone with my step dad. I mean, what if someone I knew found me? Or anyone really, I don't want to _scar_ the nice people just trying to have a plain, old, meal.

"How about I tell you about some of the success stories of the flirting I used on your mom." he said.

"You really don't need to." I said, while the memories of a year and a half ago when I actually _saw _them flirting coming back to me. I have to admit, it wasn't the best thing for a fourteen year old to see.

"Okay, then, I think that you are getting this. If you ever have any questions on or about this, just ask." He said; waving his hand to get the attention of the waitress, so she could bring him the check.

"Sure." I said, inching out of my side of the booth, trying to escape this madness.

"I'll tell your mother that you and I have had this conversation." Paul said, giving me a small smile. He seemed to think that he really did a service by 'helping me out', and I really didn't want to crush him by telling him I'm not sure it would be effective.

"Percy, I know you have a lot of homework, so do you want to go back and I'll meet you back upstairs?" he asked, kindly.

"Really? I can? Thanks, Paul." I said, practically leaping out of my seat.

"See you upstairs," he said, as I proceeded to run out of the diner as fast as my legs would carry me (while still making sure that I didn't knock any senior citizens down).

After all that, maybe math homework isn't all _that _bad.

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**A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review, it would really mean a lot if you did. Each review is greatly appreciated! **


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